


No Stopping It

by allourheroes



Series: This Isn't White Collar [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John isn't one to go home with just anybody, especially not criminals. Yet here he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Stopping It

**Author's Note:**

> More bits of White Collar-inspired AU.

“How do you do it?” John asked, hours later, lying in the bed of a man he’d only just met and feeling like he’d known him forever.

“I assume you mean the paintings.” Sherlock’s head tilts, curls falling to the side, sweeping over his forehead.

John nods, swallowing a lump in his throat before replying, rather hoarsely, “Yes. Yeah, um, those.”

The other man huffed, as if the answer couldn’t possibly be more obvious. John felt rather self-conscious, but he was beginning to think that was just the way Sherlock functioned. “I observe,” he answers.

Staring at him, John hopes he takes the hint to continue. He does.

“All those brushstroke patterns, the signs of aging, the types of paint used. It’s all quite obvious, isn’t it?” Sherlock’s eyes shift to John, who feels more exposed than ever, despite the fact that he was naked over the man not twenty minutes earlier, groaning his name--a name he’d just learned and didn’t think he could ever forget, even if they never met again (although John sincerely doubted that).

“Not really, no,” John says, unable to stop himself and feeling another wave of embarrassment at seeming so foolish.

“The untrained eye doesn’t see the precision in duplications and imitations, but there are those that do. But, they, like everyone else, are idiots.” His voice is haughty and John feels a rise of annoyance, conflicting with his amazement at the man’s skill.

“So, you just…see it and you, what, know?” John extracts from Sherlock’s response, rolling onto his elbow to better stare at him. He’s a piece of art himself--the way his back had arched, the ripple of muscle under an expanse of pale skin, the way his pupils had overtaken the light blue of his eyes as John had moved over him, long fingers exact in their caresses--but John is already making far too much of an arse out of himself to say anything about that.

“Yes,” Sherlock says.

“That’s amazing,” John tells him, awed and cursing himself for it.

Sherlock smiles, a faint tinge of pink dusting his cheeks as he actually looks away from John at the compliment.

Despite his obvious arrogance, John sees that Sherlock goes without praise on his work. He really shouldn’t ordain it, being a servant of the law himself, but he can’t help wanting Sherlock to react that way again--almost shyly. It’s rather adorable.

John kisses him, grinning. Sherlock seems a bit put out by how smug he must look now, but he makes no comment on it. John laughs, changing the subject, “So, have you got a shower around here somewhere?”


End file.
